


Jervis Tetch x Oc - The White Rabbit

by TheJokersEnigma



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Gotham (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-21
Updated: 2017-10-21
Packaged: 2019-01-20 22:04:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12442725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheJokersEnigma/pseuds/TheJokersEnigma
Summary: This was a request given to me by a tumblr follower.Basically Jill is a new inmate at Arkham, she has a confused past and her mind is stuck in her childhood. People don't understand her, and in turn she cant seem to understand others. That is until Jervis Tetch introduces himself and makes living at Arkham Asylum a little less lonely





	Jervis Tetch x Oc - The White Rabbit

**Author's Note:**

> I just want to apologise. I messed around with this story a lot - so I hope it reads ok and doesn't seem too random!  
> I've never written Jervis Tetch before, so I apologise if he's a bit out of character!

She was sat in a spindly metal chair that rocked if she shifted her weight, even though the floor appeared perfectly flat. Before her was a basic, empty table with a chair identical to her own tucked neatly around the opposite side.

It hadn’t taken long for her to survey the room, it was empty apart from the furniture directly in front of her. The only other thing in the room with her was the small toy that sat on her lap. 

Her fingers brushed absently over the white hair of the little rabbit’s head as she gazed down into the black beads of eyes, the dim light from window reflecting in the shiny material and painting little white squares like haunting pupils on the beads. She moved her fingers to the little black waistcoat he wore, pulling it back neatly over his slightly plump stomach and smoothing the lapels back into place. 

She couldn’t remember when she’d gotten the toy she just knew she had him and she wouldn’t let him go. It was the only belonging that had come with her to this odd place. And only because she had thrown such a tantrum at the alternative that she had been close to hurting herself or someone else.

So the rabbit had stayed and the girl continued to take it everywhere, even into this little cell room. The stroking motion calmed the confusion within her and any fear that bred, she continued the rhythmic movement, her mind wandering and her attention now turning to the window, bored and needing to occupy herself.

There wasn’t much of a view thanks to the glass being streaked with filth. She could make out the tarmac that ran around the outside of the building which was lined with a tall chain linked fence that nearly reached her window 3 floors up from the ground. The top of the fence was lined with never ending coil of barbed wire and beyond that the land sloped away from her, down into the forest of trees that pooled around the base of the hill and out into the immediate horizon before the view was swallowed by low clouds.

She felt like she was in castle, like on from those fairy tales she knew so well. A castle that stood proudly on the highest hill, her loyal subjects forced to live below her amongst the woods and fields. She smiled to herself at this. How nice it would be.

Just then the door opened opposite her, but she made no movement to show that she had heard or saw, keeping her eyes on the landscape out of the window, lost in her own little world where she ruled an empty castle all on her own with no one to bother her and her little rabbit for company.

It was only when the person entered the room and had taken a seat opposite her -pulling their chair closer to the table so it caused the legs to scrape eerily on concrete - and then emitted a single attention seeking cough, that she decided to take notice. She stopped smoothing her toy, her hand freezing between the white ears. She didn’t move immediately, instead she waited a few moments before she slowly turned her head back to her visitor - not unlike the dolls her brother had forced her to watch in those scary movies when she was little. 

The woman cleared here throat again and the girl was not amused in the slightest by the interruption to her fantasy and she glared at the woman reproachfully, studying her as she held tightly to the hand of the small rabbit sat on her lap, hidden away under the table and not in sight of the intruder.

The woman was pale and skinny, her eyes were shrunken into her skull and there were rings under her eyes like she hadn’t slept in days. The rest of her appearance followed this theme, she looked unkempt, her hair lank and unwashed, her skin dry and a scarce layer of makeup which did nothing but highlight how gaunt she looked.

She sat very upright in the chair, her hands folded neatly in her lap. She looked slightly alarm by the hatred in the girl’s eyes, shortly followed by confusion and then a look of sorrow. 

The woman might have looked confused, but unlike the young pale, irritated girl across from her, the woman knew why the girl was here. 

Neither of them said anything, both staring at the other. The girl showed no change in posture or emotion, whilst the woman fiddled with her fingers, her eyes becoming shiny and watery. 

Eventually the silence became too much for the tired woman. “Why’d you do it, Jill?” She croaked. The girl said nothing, continuing her blank stare. “Why?” The woman whimpered pitifully before breaking down into tears, those few words alone being too much for her in the given the circumstances.

The girl gave no reaction to the emotions of the woman, her tears didn’t move her in the slightest, and her question only puzzled her. What did she mean, what had Jill done? What had Jill done? She didn’t know. She wasn’t sure she cared. But the woman intrigued her slightly. The girl thought she’d seen her before. She seemed familiar. Had she been a character from a story? It wouldn’t be the first time that they showed up and chatted to her like long lost friends. They weren’t usually this sad though.

Maybe she was a memory. The girl didn’t have many. Most were fuzzy and blurred like she was looking at them through eyes of tears. 

The woman was struggling to get a hold of herself. She put her face in her hands as she sobbed. “I-I’m sor-rry! I ca-can’t do-oo this-s!” She sniffed before pushing herself to her feet and running out the room the way she came. 

Still the girl barely moved, not even when the door slammed shut, instead she just returned her gaze to window and resumed petting the small rabbit with the waistcoat.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The girl didn’t have to wait long until the next interruption. It was a man this time. He didn’t look to be in such a state as the woman before him had been. He wore a suit over a slightly crumpled shirt, his hair was neatly combed back, but there were familiar bags under his eyes that suggested a lack of a goodnights sleep again.

She watched him swing the door to the little room open with a almost dramatic flare, his chest puffed out and looking as though every muscle in his body was clenched. He strode into the room and promptly sat down in the seat across from her, his eyes hard and staring, his back painfully straight, every sense of formality about him. She just stared back at him like she had at the woman. Again, he seemed familiar. A memory of unclear origin or context.

There was another silence as each of them sized each other up.

“Jill?” He eventually asked. He seemed to want to sound stern, but there was an underlying weakness or quiver in his voice. She didn’t say anything. Was he talking to her? Who was Jill? She remembered Jill, from the nursery rhyme – Jack and Jill. Jack. She knew a Jack. Who was he? Did that make her Jill? Why was she Jill?

“Jill?” The man questioned her again as though seeing she wasn’t present anymore and attempting to drag her attention back. Her eyes were on the man, but she did not see him. She hummed the nursey rhyme, the words bouncing along in her mind.

Jack and Jill went up the hill  
To fetch a pail of water  
Jack fell down and broke his crown,  
And Jill came tumbling after.

“Jill?!” The man demanded, “For god’s sake Jill!” He cried angrily, slamming his fists on the table in front of him. The movement frightened her, but she felt the comforting texture of the toy under her finger tips and she didn’t jump, her eyes darting to his fist now clenched tightly and pressed into the table surface. He snatched his fist back, as though her hard stare burnt his skin.

She continued to hum the rest of the tune, hating to leave it unfinished, though she did it slower now, more carefully:

Up Jack got and home did trot,

As fast as he could caper;

And went to bed and bound his head

With vinegar and brown paper.

The man shoved himself back from the table, shoving the chair backwards so it skidded across the floor. “How can you have the audacity to sing that?!” He demanded harshly, his teeth clenched in his fury, The girl kept going, taking no notice of the fuming man. He tried to get a hold of his temper, but was struggling. “I promised.” The man muttered to himself, “Promised her I’d stay in control.”

Control. She knew that word well. She looked up at him with intrigue, moving her handcuffed wrists from her lap to the table top, bringing the little toy rabbit with her. She set the toy on its feet on the table, and she noticed the man’s eyes fall on the little creature, his gaze softening momentarily and she thought it was a look of recognition, that he was remembering a happier memory. She watched the patiently, maintaining her silence, but waiting for the man to say more things that interested her. She liked him more than the woman.

He took a deep breath, blinking a few times and grabbed the chair he had shoved across the room. He pushed it back under the table, refusing to return to the seat, instead placing his hands on the back of the chair and gripping tightly, trying to return to his previous, calm and controlled state he’d been in when he entered the room. He lifted a hand and anxiously pulled at his already straight jacket, wiping off invisible lint. He sniffed, pulling himself up straight and the girl rather thought he was doing his best impression of having a large stick rammed up his backside.

“Jill.” He began, his head held high and he seemed to be in physical pain to look at her. “Do you know what you have done to us?” The girl said nothing. She wasn’t listening to his words, only his voice. She knew that voice, it brought strong memories back to her of hop scotch, a dolls house and a deep voice reading stories to her. She smiled serenely to herself. 

“AND NOW YOU’RE SMILING?!” Demanded the man furiously, his grip on the chair becoming so tight his knuckles were white. His chest heaved with his anger and she wouldn’t have been surprised of his teeth snapped under the pressure of his jaw. “That’s it! I can’t do this!” He cried before he then and spun around and stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him and making the chair in front of her shake slightly with the vibrations from the floor.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Her eyes went back to her rabbit as she smoothed out a slight ruck in his jacket, no care in the world.

No other people came to sit before her and she was soon escorted back to her room, her little toy in hand. She soon found herself back in her usual position on her bed, her rabbit sat before her on the thin sheet.

It was probably early afternoon in late summer, but in her dark, chilly and damp room, you would never have known. She stared at the door for a bit, stared at the grubby wall for even longer, and then eventually settled on staring out the tiny window on the wall opposite the door. Not that she could see anything but the overcast sky.

It was the first visit she had since she’d been here. She wasn’t sure how long it had been, but I can tell you it was at least 2 weeks. 2 weeks of silence before her first visitor. 2 weeks of isolation with nothing but her dank room and tiny rabbit.

But she didn’t know the people that had visited either. But then, she wasn’t sure she knew anyone. In her memories there were only vague shifting shadows, no clear faces. There were voices, like that man’s voice, but she didn’t know who he was. She had a brother. She knew that. She couldn’t remember anything about him or what he looked like, but she remembered playing dolls with a brother.

But that was it. She only had childhood memories. After the age of 10 she remembered nothing.

She stayed in that cell, without any other visits for another month. Only then did the Arkham staff begin to wonder if isolation was no longer needed for this patient. During the month and a half she’d been at the asylum, the young woman had shown no sign of being the terror that she was reported to be. Insane she was definitely – the girl did nothing but sit cross legged on her bed or the floor and talk to imaginary friends or sit in silence and stroke that odd little rabbit of hers – but she seemed to pose no danger. They thought it was time to let her in with the rest of the general inmates – monitored closely of course. 

So that’s how the girl - who had eventually decided her name was Jill - found herself sat cross legged on a different filthy floor, now surrounded by people in matching black and white striped uniforms.

Jill, however, didn’t feel any less alone. She ignored everyone in the large common-room-like space and – in turn - most of them did the same, soon learning quickly from her uninviting blank stare that she turned on them when they tried to drag her into their own world of insanity and delusion.

It hadn’t always been this way. She could remember loving people before, seeking them out to play with – after all, a game is always better if not everyone you’re playing with is imaginary - but, she’d soon learnt (though she couldn’t remember how) that people were cruel creatures who did not deserve to play and who even poisoned her imaginary playmates into occasionally saying cruel things and laughing at her. 

But It wasn’t funny. It was mean. And now she resented anyone that tried to interrupt her games.

So, when a rather tall, thin man sat cross legged opposite her she was not pleased. She had her little rabbit sat on her knee, watching her as she stared at the filthy floor laminate floor, playing. She imagined the cracks were cavasses in a vast, barren valley, the unidentifiable smudges on the floor were pits and lagoons of death and doom, all combing to form a perilous journey for her imagination to get around with the aid of her little rabbit sidekick. However, when the man sat across from her his shadow fell over her adventure, like a sudden eclipse or somebody suddenly deciding it was bedtime and switching off all the lights.

She frowned in annoyance at the floor. Game ruiner, she sulked, unable to be sure if she was now going to step unwittingly right into a canyon that split the floor. She crushed her lips together in a pout, willing the man to release she was ignoring him and just go away. But he didn’t.

“Interesting game, my dear.” He commented, his voice quite high and almost sing-song like, she thought he’d make a good bard in one of her adventures. She could use it if he’d just get lost and let her go back to her game. If he didn’t the bard might take his own trip into a lagoon.

“Canyons I see, and dark pits too, a dangerous adventure for anyone but you.” The man rhymed down at her. She glanced up at him in surprise. No one understood her games. Half the time they didn’t know she was playing them. She couldn’t help the smile that appeared on her face, she liked rhymes, there was something fun and carefree to them – plus they were funny a lot of the time. She remembered her brother had a book of poems and rhymes, she remembered stealing it once when he refused to read it to her.

“Your head is down, your heart follows suit, but your interest, I find, is far from mute.” She grinned again. Funny. Clever. She sat up properly now, straightening her back and her muscles protesting from where she had been bent over so long. She instinctively reached for her rabbit and pulled him into her lap, now looking like a school girl disciplined into perfection.

She finally allowed herself to look properly at the man, who nodded his head in greeting, “Jervis Tetch. Pleasure to meet you.” He grinned a white toothy smile. She took him in with interest. He wore the usual striped overalls of the asylum, though they hung quite baggily on his slender body. He too, had his hands in his lap, his bony fingers interlaced between each other as he gripped his hands together and leant forward, his posture the complete opposite of the young girl. Her eyes travelled to his face, noticing how his hair just reached his shoulders, falling in unruly waves and framing his sharp jaw line. Her eyes then move to the small amount of facial hair on his chin and upper lip – slightly unkept thanks to the lack of facilities at the asylum - and then up to his eyes which looked soft as he watched her back, they were almost bright – like he’d just found something new and interesting. Finally, her eyes focused on the unusual object perched on his head that had been calling at her attention. A top hat. But not a normal top hat. It was top hat made completely of newspaper. Her eyes widen in wonder and delight at it.

“I like your hat.” She murmured staring at it, not recognising her voice which was scratchy from lack of use.

“Why, thank you my dear!” He said, touching the brim to her in an archaic gentlemanly gesture, he sounded genuinely touched by the compliment. “A head is a lonely and empty place without a hat.” He commented, “Though few people in this place seem to appreciate that.” He muttered darkly, shoot a glance out at the room, before realising himself again and grinning broadly at her, no sign of the resentment that had been in his eyes a moment ago. “I like your little friend.” He beamed, nodding at the little rabbit gripped tightly between her hands.

Her eyes dropped to the rabbit in question. She gave a small sad smile at his comment.

“Does he have a name?” He asked kindly.

She shook her head. “I’ve never found the right one.” She murmured sadly. She didn’t usually talk to anyone but herself, her rabbit and her invisible friends, but she liked this man. Something about him made her trust him. She dropped her head, feeling tears as bad things rushed into her mind.

The thought of having a person as a friend scared her. She knew people hurt. She couldn’t make head or tail of the thoughts or memories that whirled in her mind. They snapped and snarled at her, too blurry and fragmented to make any sense, but she knew something bad had happened. She knew people didn’t like her and she wasn’t sure why. Her vision was blurring and a tear dropped onto her lap, darkening the material of her uniform where it fell and absorbed into the stripes.

She felt fingers, gentle on her chin, and slight pressure which she didn’t fight, letting them lift her head up, though she kept her eyes down, embarrassed by her tears. Big girls didn’t cry, she scolded herself the way she remembered scolding her doll Lucy when she had cried during her arm surgery.

“Oh, dear child!” The man exclaimed in distress at her tears and she thought he was going to tell her off for crying. “Waste no water on these cursed halls,” his was voice bitter, but she sensed it was at the ‘cursed halls’ not at her. He dropped his hand from her face, “that is what they thrive off – it feeds the monsters in the walls.” She sneaked a peek up at him to see if he was lying to her, making fun of her like the bullies before him, but he was looking away, staring off into the centre of the room and his face was deadly serious.

Suddenly he clapped his hands together in glee, a grin on his face. “Let’s have a tea party!”

“What?” She sniffed, confused by his outburst.

“A tea party, my dear.” He repeated, handing her a handkerchief he seemed to have just produced from thin air. She took it from him warily and wiped at her eyes. “Of course, your friend is invited too, I’ll lay the table for four!”

“Four?” She asked, confused, “but there’s only 3 of us.” She mumbled from behind the tissue.

He grinned at her, reached for his hat and pulled it off his head to reveal a little rabbit, the same size as hers, made of newspaper - much like his hat - perched on his brown curls. He gave her a wink and she couldn’t help the grin that spread across her face.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Jarvis and the girl stuck together after that. It took a few more visits to the recreational room until the girl actively sought him out, but he always found her anyway. He seemed to understand her better than anyone else in Arkham, and in turn she seemed to understand him where others called him ‘odd’ or ‘creepy’. The girl couldn’t see that. She would call him a brother, but he fitted nothing of the memories she had of a boy she thought she was related to. Those were mean, ugly memories, a precursor to the bullies that picked on her later in life.

But maybe the boy in her memories wasn’t her brother. Brothers were supposed to be nice, kind and supportive after all. That’s what she thought they were supposed to be anyway. So that boy couldn’t have been it. And Jervis could be. She smiled. Yes. Jervis could be her brother.

And act like a brother he did. He watched out for her, even when she didn’t realise it. 

After all, her wasn’t the only person in the asylum that took an interest in the simple, pure child. There were a few people that didn’t respect her privacy – they were insane so none of the staff could blame for not respecting other people and didn’t see it as such a problem, after all it happened too much for them to care anymore. There were a few people that weren’t scared of her blank stare, instead they saw a weak, naïve girl with a pretty baby face. Worst of all they saw her long straight hair that always hung around her. It was all too tempting for an insane inmate to want to mess and pull at those strands – and when she screamed and thrashed out at them it only made it more entertaining for them.

When Jervis saw this happen, upon just arriving in the communal area from his cell, he stepped in immediately. Jill’s assailant had been a large burly man with the brain power of a four-year-old and he currently had his large hand entangled in the girl’s hair and looked close to shaking the life out of her.

Jervis’ eyes burned with a hot, silent anger and he held his head high and importantly as he stepped up to the large man. “Sir,” He began forcefully, “I strongly suggest you release this young lady.” He said with a cold politeness. The large caveman stopped his shaking and turned towards Jervis where he stood in his newspaper top hat and striped overalls, his eyes dark under his brows. The large man’s jaw was slack in confusion at Jarvis’s request and didn’t say or do anything in response.

The anger built within Jervis. “A brute you are, and angel is she, release her hair or you’ll anger me.” Snapped Jervis, trying to keep his cool, though every muscle in his body was tense. The man continued to look at him gormlessly, not comprehending the rhyme. Jervis just tried to stare him down.

After finding no further entertainment in the odd man with the fun hat, the man returned his attention to the pretty girl at the end of his fist who winced and shrieked in agony as he yanked at the strands of hair between his fingers. 

Something snapped in Jervis and he grabbed for the nearest thing he could, finding a thin spindly chair, seizing it and driving it straight into the back of the larger man. The force smashed the chair into pieces, and it caused the man to stumble slightly, but he didn’t release the girl and it seemed to have caused no lasting damage to the brute, unlike what Jervis had hoped.

The man looked around at what had caused the slight bruise to his side, a look of sadness and confusion on his face, his innocent mind not comprehending the pain he was causing the girl next to him or what he could possibly be doing wrong. When he spotted Jervis again he looked hurt for a moment before his confusion became anger and he stepped dangerously toward Jervis, raising his empty fist.

But just as Jervis began to fear for his own life, the man’s eyes caught on something – the paper hat that had once sat astride Jervis’s head now lay on the floor where it had been knocked off as Jervis had swung the chair.

Immediately the man stumbled towards the hat instead, seeking a new treasure, and dragging the helpless, squealing girl along with him. Jervis noticed what was happening and darted across, swiping the hat off the floor before the man could reach it. There seemed a delayed response in the large man’s eyes who had just seen the hat disappear. He had to look at Jervis and the hat in his hand before he could comprehend that the tall, slim man had taken it from under him.

The giant looked hurt again, but soon the anger was back – his prize had been snatched. But Jervis had seen the want in the man’s eyes and his quick mind had already leapt to an idea. He held out his hand in a stop gesture to the large man who looked at the hand gormlessly - confused. “A gift, for you,” He said, offering his hat, “but,” he added withdrawing the hat from reach when the large man went for it, “in return – a twist – you hand over the girl in your fist.”

The man looked dumbfounded again, clearly finding pleasure in the rhyme, but not understanding the words within them. That was until Jervis made a gesture for the girl and pushed the hat towards him. Something clicked in the brute’s mind and the man immediately released the girl and lurched forward, seizing the hat before Jervis could react.

The hat crumpled under the man’s powerful and clumsy fists and Jervis winced as his beautiful creation – and only hat - was carelessly torn and mangled under the giant’s careless grip. But the larger man didn’t seem to care at the destruction he was doing to his paper treasure, just pleased to have it as his possession, and began wandering off with a big grin on his face as he looked at his new toy.

Jervis turned back to the girl, trying not to think of the fate of his hat. She was rubbing her scalp where the hairs had been yanked the worst and she looked on in despair as her assailant wandered away with the beautiful paper creation. “But Jervis! Your hat! She exclaimed, tears watering her eyes. “I’m so sorry!” She cried, her voice choking as she began to sob. “Yo-you sh-shou-shouldn’t hav-have done th-that! Yo-your po-poor ha-hat!” She choked out, wrapping her arms around herself.

“Nonsense, my dear, it was for a good cause.” He murmured, stepping over to stroke down some of the hair that still stuck out from where it had been grabbed. He knew he not to overcrowd when she felt vulnerable – it made her panic and bolt - like a fawn.

“I’m not worth it.” She mumbled, looking at the floor and trying to ignore the comfort she felt from his gentle stroking of her hair, feeling like she didn’t deserve his sacrifice. She knew how much he cherished his headwear.

“You most certainly are.” He corrected her sternly, though there was no anger in the voice, “Besides, my dear,” he added, “That one will last two more seconds with that brute. I can just make another one.”

He bent down to reach for something on the floor, and when he straightened she saw her little rabbit in his hand from where she’d dropped it as she been grabbed. Jervis gentle smoothed out the little waist coat and brushed the dirt from the white fur. “I always like seeing him.” Jervis admitted, examining the rabbit to ensure he was pristine, “It is nice to see something that reminds me the world isn’t all so bad.” He smiled looking up at her from under his dark eyelashes and she wasn’t sure he was talking about her rabbit anymore. “I might just make him a little hat as well.” He said, steering the conversation on as though nothing had happened, his gaze returning back to the toy in his hand before he bowed dramatically before Jill and offered the little rabbit back. She took it, a genuine smile spreading across her face. 

Yes. Jervis could be her brother.


End file.
